


Three Colours: Red

by elaine



Series: Three Colours [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, silk shirt kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the artwork of bluetattoo: http://web.archive.org/web/20091026223715/http://www.geocities.com/bluetattoolove/sentinel2/waiting.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Colours: Red

The vivid slash of red against the blue covers drew Blair’s eyes the moment he reached the top of the stairs. He hesitated a moment before crossing to the bed, his heart sinking. Which was ridiculous. He should be pleased Jim still wanted to play this game, but all he could think was ‘Why?’ and ‘Why  _now_?’

Except, of course, he knew why now. He just wished Jim had let it go, not made a bigger deal of it than was absolutely necessary.

Right. Like  _he_  wasn’t making a big deal of it. Blair snorted derisively and went over to the bed, fingering the cloth thoughtfully. Bright scarlet wasn’t the shade of red he’d normally wear, but the cloth slipped sensuously against his skin and he thought it was probably not such a bad idea of Jim’s after all. At the very least it would be a distraction.

He couldn’t actually remember the last time they’d done this. Months. Not since… oh god, not since before Alex… his heart began to thud uncomfortably, as it still did whenever he thought of her and what had happened. Somehow, he and Jim had managed to get past that, and then the diss disaster, but the easiness of their relationship had changed. They didn’t play games any more. Until now, apparently.

Blair sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity, even if he wasn’t really in the mood. Even if he didn’t appreciate Jim’s timing. The thought was what counted, wasn’t it?

Stripped naked, Blair considered the merits of taking a shower. He hadn’t been particularly busy today, and a quick sniff of his ‘pits told him that he wasn’t any riper than Jim could handle – Jim  _liked_  to scent him, didn’t like the smell of deodorants and soaps.

Just being naked was enough to get Blair horny. He loved the feel of air against his skin, and his cock was beginning to fill a little. He slipped the shirt on, feeling it settle whisper-light against his skin as he walked around the bedroom tidying away his discarded clothes. The shirt hung loose, unbuttoned, and the fluttering motions of it against his belly and ass sent a tiny throb of pleasure through him.

Jim would probably be home soon, so when he’d finished tidying Blair lay down across the bed, facing the stairs. Sunlight poured down over him, and though it was still chilly outside, inside the loft the air was warm. He felt a pulse beat, softly insistent, in his belly. His cock stiffened, lolling against his thigh and he reached down to touch himself lightly.

A little squeeze, a light stroke, and Blair smiled lazily – god, he was easy – and closed his eyes against the brightness of the sun. Even then, it burned though his lids, and he flung one arm across his forehead to shade his eyes. Jim had damned well better get home soon…

***

Although Jim had been steeling himself all day, his first sight of Blair shocked him to the core. He could feel the instinctive response to danger – skin tightening, extremities cooling, heart slowing before the adrenaline rush made it pick up again – and tried not to let any of it show on his face.

He was pretty sure he’d failed when Blair’s face, relaxed and sensual for a brief moment longer, suddenly tightened. He watched Jim silently, his expression giving nothing away.

“God, Blair…” Jim crossed the distance between the stairs and the bed in two quick steps, and knelt beside his lover. “You… your  _hair_ …”

His fingers slipped too easily through the short curls, used to having much, much more to play with. Blair’s face was a conflicted mass of emotions – misery, annoyance, grief – and Jim realised that, once again, he’d messed this up. He pulled Blair’s arm away from his forehead and cupped his face in both hands.

“You look… incredible.” He bent down to kiss Blair’s trembling mouth, slowly, thoroughly. He’d deal with this better if he didn’t have to talk about it. “God, you… you’re  _beautiful_.”

Blair blinked, obviously surprised, and smiled waveringly. “You’re not just saying that? I mean…  _fuck_ , this is so  _stupid_! It’s just  _hair_ , for god’s sake. I haven’t always worn it long.”

“Yeah, but…”  _He’d_  never seen Blair with short hair. He’d had no idea… “I like it, but I’m gonna miss the old mop.” It was always such a sensory indulgence to plunge his fingers into that mass of curls. “Can I…?”

Blair’s grin was a little more genuine this time. “Be my guest.”

He kissed Blair again, briefly, and then buried his face against the side of Blair’s head. It felt different – less padding between his face and Blair’s skull – and it made Blair seem shockingly fragile. His fingers explored the curves, feeling the tickle of newly cut ends against his palm. The barber had used some kind of product to fluff up the hair; not an unpleasant smell. He nuzzled Blair’s ear, licked the curve of it and sucked on his earlobe.

The scent of salt hung lightly in the air. Jim raised his head, looking down at Blair for a moment, then kissed the dampness from his lashes. “I love you, you know. I don’t deserve you, babe.”

Blair’s face softened and he reached up to touch Jim’s face. “God, Jim, you… I love you too, you schmuck. Goes without saying, right?”

“Right.” That was an option he could really get behind. He winced. “My knees are hurting.”

“Then get up here.” Blair rolled his eyes, patting the covers beside him. “Jesus, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”

Not needing a second offer, Jim clambered over Blair’s body and lay down beside him, drawing him into his arms. He cupped one hand behind Blair’s head and kissed him again, sliding his tongue into Blair’s mouth with a little sigh.

Blair moaned, melting against him so there was not even the tiniest sliver of space between them all along the length of their bodies. Jim slid his other hand under the shirt, following the trail of Blair’s spine up and then down again before palming the firm, rounded muscle of Blair’s ass.

He could feast on Blair’s mouth for hours, and it would be easy to slip into an almost-zone, so focused on the sensations that time lost all meaning. But on a day like this, lying in the sun, in Blair’s arms, hearing his heartbeat so close, with so much warm, bare skin to explore, losing himself in just one of his senses would be like being offered a smorgasbord and only tasting one dish.

Rolling Blair onto his back, Jim leaned over him, sliding the shirt off Blair’s shoulders – not all the way off, just enough to expose the smooth, soft skin to his lips. Blair moaned as he lapped delicately at the salty tang overlaying his skin and then kissed his way down to the tightly furled nipple.

“God…  _Jim_ …” Blair plucked clumsily at Jim’s shirt. “You’ve got way too many clothes on here.”

Jim ignored the complaint, but cooperated so that Blair was able to unbutton his shirt enough to pull it off over his head, rapidly followed by his undershirt. Then he went back to nuzzling Blair’s chest and stroking his hip with languid pleasure. Eventually, Blair sighed above his head and relaxed beneath him, tacit signal that he was resigned to allowing Jim free rein to his senses for as long as it took to satisfy them. Soon after that, Blair began to move beneath him making soft sounds of pleasure as Jim slowly, slowly made his way down Blair’s body.

When he licked a warm, wet stripe the length of Blair’s cock, his lover made an indescribable noise deep in his throat and undulated, hips rising, falling, back arching again, blindly seeking more. Jim obliged, suckling the tip messily, lips slipping against spit-slicked skin. Blair’s hands, demanding, clasped his head, guiding him, while his cock jutted imperiously beneath Jim’s chin. This time he sucked it all the way in, fast, hard, chuckling silently at Blair’s startled cry.

He knew how to work Blair – how to take him to the edge, and when to back off, slow it down. This time, he fine-tuned his technique, taking Blair to that point where he was desperate to come and holding him there until he was panting and quivering with frustrated need. Until Jim was just as desperate, just as aching and hungry as Blair.

Jim pulled back, trying to ignore Blair’s pitiful groan. He’d gone from vocal – both appreciative and profane – to nonverbal some time ago, but the sound that escaped him now made Jim’s cock throb painfully inside his jeans. He slid off the bed and tugged them open with shaking hands, waiting only to shove them and his boxers down before crawling back up onto the bed.

Blair looked dazed, clutching at the base of his cock, but he’d still, Jim noticed appreciatively, retained enough presence of mind to find the lube Jim had – hoping for the best – stashed under the pillows earlier in the day.

“Here.” Blair’s voice was hoarse, and trembling almost as badly as the hand that thrust the tube into Jim’s fingers. “… _please_ …”

He took the lube, but laid it aside while he spread himself over Blair’s body, cocks sliding together, smearing wetness across his belly and thighs, slicking up Blair’s skin even more. The rich, heady musk of their arousal made his senses sing and he wanted to indulge himself just a little longer.

A sharp slap on his ass made his skin sting pleasantly and brought him out of something perilously close to a zone.

“Jim…  _god_ … will you get with the program here?” Blair’s voice was wrecked, rough and tremulous, and Jim realised that he was hanging on by a thread. A rapidly fraying thread.

“Soon,” he murmured, and heard the strain in his own voice. If he was going to get what he wanted, he’d better act fast. He had to force himself to draw back a little as he fumbled for the lube and squeezed the barest amount necessary onto his fingers. “Soon, babe. Just hold on.”

Blair laughed shakily, biting down on his lower lip, brow furrowed in concentration. His eyes widened a little when Jim wrapped his fingers around Blair’s cock, and his pupils dilated until there was barely a rim of blue remaining. “ _Jesus_ …  _Jim_ …”

Jim smiled against his throat, nuzzling, licking as he smoothed the lube over his cock. He nudged Blair’s jaw with his nose and nipped gently at the tender skin below. “You want to help out here?”

Blair swallowed, the muscles rippling against Jim’s lips “Oh… oh, yeah… sorry...”

A moment’s silent concentration from Blair and then Jim felt slick fingers against his hole. He shuddered as they pressed inside and clenched his ass around them. Two fingers; not enough to satisfy, but holding the promise of pleasure almost beyond bearing. It was difficult to stop himself rocking back onto Blair’s fingers, but if he did it would all be over far too soon.

When he couldn’t control it any longer Jim rolled onto his back, pulling Blair over on top of him. He stared up into Blair’s face, still shocked by the way his hair fluffed softly around his head. Blair grinned down at him, his eyes slightly glazed. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Jim bent one leg, setting his foot flat on the bed, and hooked the other over Blair’s hips. “Do it.”

And if his voice sounded breathless and shaking, Jim wasn’t in any condition to care about it. He closed his eyes, waiting, seemingly for an eternity, and then moaned helplessly as he felt Blair sink into him – just the right amount of burn in his ass, just perfect.

“Jim, look at me.” Blair’s voice, bossy as ever, but full of tenderness, would not be denied. “ _Look_  at me.”

He opened his eyes, staring up at a startlingly unfamiliar face, framed with short, damp curls instead of veiled by long strands of hair. But the expression was one he’d seen a million times, one that he saw in dreams sometimes, that he’d grown used to seeing day after day; that he hadn’t seen for a long time now. Jim reached up to brush away a bead of sweat trickling down from Blair’s forehead, then ran his hand over the side of Blair’s head, ruffling the short hair. Something inside him burst wide open and he pulled Blair down into his arms.

Things got a little blurry, then – the feel of Blair moving inside him, of his cock, sensitised almost to the point of pain, rubbing against Blair’s belly. The feel of sweat sodden silk crushed beneath his hands. He struggled to hold it together, until he heard Blair make a broken sound, shattering against him. And then he held on for one shining, perfect moment longer before throwing his senses wide open.

***

“Get a move on, Sandburg! Simon’s gonna tear us new ones if we’re late for his retirement party.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your shirt on.” Blair’s mutter would, he knew, be perfectly audible to Jim, who was waiting impatiently by the front door. The other half of his favourite pair of argyle socks was in here somewhere and he was  _going_  to find it.

He scrabbled through the sock drawer as he squinted at the blur of colours – he really should go downstairs and get his glasses, but Jim would only bitch louder at the delay. Then something brushed against his fingers that didn’t feel at all sock-like. He snatched up the mystery object, his curiosity overcoming his sense of urgency, and pulled out… a crumpled silk shirt.

Huh.

It was faded to a dingy pink from many years of washing and the seams were so worn that a sharp tug would have it in pieces, but Blair recognised that shirt. And he  _knew_  he’d thrown it into the rag box.  _Months_  ago.

Jim could be such a sentimental old softie sometimes.

“Sand _burg_ …”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m coming. Just give me a minute, okay?”

Carefully, he laid the shirt out on the bed, smoothing it to take out the worst of the creases with the warmth of his hands. It really needed ironing, but that would have to wait for another time. Well aware that if he didn’t get downstairs soon, Jim would come up and get him – and not in the way that meant they’d spend the rest of the afternoon in bed – Blair hurriedly folded the shirt and put it back in the sock drawer. On top, where Jim would be sure to see it next time he went looking for socks.

He snatched a couple of socks at random – the others would mock if they didn’t match, but hey, a little humour at his expense wouldn’t hurt him – and went padding downstairs to join Jim.

 


End file.
